Relationship Counselling For Dummies
by FrankCullen
Summary: When Hermione discovers something really rather unexpected, what does she do? She books relationship counselling sessions, of course! Post-DH, Non-Canon, A Tad OOC, R&R. Romancey/angsty first couple of chapters, gets a bit more humourous as we go through!
1. Two Birthdays & a Test

Saturday, July 31st

I had everything in my bag, and I was ready to go. Ginny and Luna would be calling for me anytime now. I was so excited. It was Harry's 21st Birthday party and we were all going out to The Waterhouse restaurant in Westminster, and then going clubbing at The Strobe, just down the street.

Ginny and Luna rung the doorbell and I answered the door with a smile.

"Let's go!" I announced, and we flitted off down the street, laughing and chatting, ready for a great night out.

We arrived at the restaurant, and got seated. It was me, Harry (obviously!), Ginny, Luna, Ron, Dean, Seamus, Neville and Dean and Seamus' girlfriends, I didn't care to ask who they were.

We drank a lot. A LOT. The dinner was nice, and we stumbled drunkenly out of the restaurant towards the club, the heel of my new shoes hanging off. Oops! Like I was sober enough to care.

Sunday, August 1st

Oh my god, I thought to myself. I had the most horrible headache, ever. I didn't know where I was, I didn't know how I'd got there – in fact, I couldn't remember anything past about seven o' clock the night before.

I started to think. I had been going out to party to celebrate Harry's 21st birthday. Hmm. I left my apartment, and it was me, Ginny and Luna. I struggled to remember much after that. We arrived at the restaurant, and I think I had a few drinks. God damn it, I knew what happens when I drink! I let myself go completely!

It was the fact that I wasn't sure what had happened after that that scared me the most. I was warm though, nice and warm. I smelled the sheets. Thank God. I was in my bed.

I poked my head up from the duvet, and glanced around the room. Yes, my room, my bed, my clothes - strewn all over the floor. The heel of my new £345 Jimmy Choo's detached from its counterpart. Damn it. I must have been absolutely hammered. (Like I didn't know that already!) This was completely un-Hermione.

I rolled over, and put the pillow from the other side of the bed over my head, in an attempt to block out the late morning sun. Except, when I pulled the pillow, I seemed to be fighting for it. I was too drunk to think why, though. I just pulled, and pulled, until it came free.

"Ouch!" yelled a male voice, the owner of which had probably just banged his head on the metal bedpost, due to the sound of bone clanging against metal.

I sat up and rubbed my eyes.

Oh my God.

I leapt up and started bashing him with my pillow, oblivious to the fact that I was rather poorly dressed. In that, I had no clothes on whatsoever. The shame.

"YOU." I bashed him, "GET." And again, "OUT!" and again. And a few more times for good measure. "RON! Why the hell would you do this! This is not right! This is beyond the boundaries of normal! GET OUT OF MY APARTMENT YOU EVIL MAN WHO TAKES ADVANTAGE OF DRUNKEN WOMEN!"

"Is it wrong," he sat up, rubbing his eyes too, mirroring my actions of a few moments before, "that I found that a complete turn on?" he laughed hoarsely and dropped back down to the mattress, hands behind his head lazily.

"URGH! You SICK, STUPID, IMMATURE BOY!" I screeched, and he leapt out of bed, at which point I covered my body and my eyes while he got dressed.

I lowered my voice. "We did it, didn't we?"

"Heck yes, we did." He grinned, his eyes glazing over, obviously reminiscing, until I jumped down off the bed and slapped him round the face.

I shoved him out of the front door with the same ease. Half dressed, and with his clothes thrown after him, he stood sheepishly out on the street as I glared at him: "You tell no-one. This didn't happen. This never happened."

And just as another sickeningly dreamy smile crept onto his mouth, I added: "And it will never happen again."

I slammed the front door in his face and thanked God at least they had done it at her place, and not in the Club, so no-one knew.

And I was drunk anyway. Everyone knew what happened to the normally up-tight and frigid me when I got drunk.

I'll just forget it and put it behind me.

The past was the past, and there would be no need to ever bring it up again.

September 19th – My Birthday

My birthday! Ah, twenty-two years old and still going strong. Not a very significant age, but who cares? It's my day! And there goes the doorbell, better go and get that.

It's Carl. He's so lovely. He's brought me a gorgeous gift. A new (engraved!) desk lamp. He knows how to hit the spot, really.

We've been seeing each other for about half a year now, and things are quite serious, already. We haven't moved in together yet, but I hope we will soon...

He's the kind of guy your parents would just LOVE. Well, if I had parents to show him to, I would. My parents are living it up in Australia at this moment though.

They don't know it's my birthday. They don't even know they have a daughter, and that she's a witch. But it's been just over five years now. And I've sort of grown to accept it. I've got Carl to look after me now. He's such an angel.

And, on the magic front, he does know that I'm a witch. And he's fine with it. He says it makes me even more magical and spectacular. I love him, I really do. Smart, funny, handsome, just overall amazing.

It's only 11am, but I opened the wine, and we had a little kiss and more on the sofa. My family (well, extended, as in, the Weasleys, Harry, Luna, etc.) arrived at about three, and Molly made a big fuss in making the dinner - smoked salmon and dauphinoise potatoes with assorted green vegetables. Delicious.

We had a great time opening the presents, and I got a lot of awfully nice things – a paperclip, staple and file clip executive style stationary organiser, leather coated and embossed with 'Hermione J Granger' on the front. It was perfect. That was from the Weasleys. Harry got me an all-new, 3rd generation FiloFax (just what I needed!) and Luna (still not fully adapted to my non-wild lifestyle) got me a set of books with titles along the lines of 'How to Hunt a Fhitlptiosnjakladjjfk' and 'Focus On: The Drararjkflkkllllsyuxzi'. It was not quite to my taste, but I thanked her all the same.

After the gorgeous dinner, we were sitting, full to burst, in front of the TV watching the X Factor. Some of those people really do not know when to stop. My good God. Molly stood up, and I asked her if she wanted anything. She said no, but could she have a word. Of course, I said yes. In private, apparently. She took me into the downstairs toilet, rather cramped for a middle aged lady and a younger woman. She started to speak.

"Well, Hermione. I know what I'm about to say will sound a little odd, but just hear me out. I know you and Carl have been, well, attempting to conceive. And, I just thought, as I know how much this means to you, I would help you a little along the way."

She handed me a tiny box wrapped in ribbon. A pregnancy test. She was so thoughtful. Like my mother.

"Thank you!" I gave her a tight hug, and said, "you don't know how much you've helped me in the last five years. You're the mother I haven't have in that long." I felt a solitary tear drop down my cheek. I didn't even know it'd been coming. I sniffled, and a few more salty tears fell out of my eye.

"There, there. You'll be absolutely fine. You did the right thing." She whispered, and squeezed me tighter, and although I saw her, my own mothers face was swimming through my hazy mind. The words were coming out of her mouth.

"I know." I quietly mumbled. Even though I didn't. In my eyes, I would do anything to have her and Dad back. I didn't know if I did any good at all. I didn't know if it was the right thing to do.

"Well, I'll leave you alone for a minute," she said, hushing me. "You don't have to do it now, dear, but, when you're ready." She added on to the end, in a rushed tone that suggested she thought she'd offended or upset me in some way. It wasn't her fault, of course. I'd been bottling up for a while.

She let herself carefully out of the room and I sat on the closed toilet lid. I heard an airy but also sharp 'Nothing, nothing, everything's absolutely fine! Now, who's just been on then?' in Molly's particular voice that invoked that the subject was closed, and not to be opened. I nearly wanted to laugh. This was my family, now.

Julie and Graham Park knew nothing of their 22 year old daughter. They were not part of my life anymore. They were no longer Granger's, the parents of model student Hermione, and dentists. They were two doctors living in the upper end of Sydney. It's a wonderful life for some. In their minds they had moved to Sydney 5 years previously for a change of scenery and a getaway from English life. It indeed was a grand getaway, as well. A getaway from the lives they had lived for the best part of 50 years prior to the strong spell I'd enchanted on them.

But, maybe, this would help if I made a family of my own. I already have one, but what if I had a real one? One that was all mine, and I had children to love and look after? And a husband (my darling Carl) to cherish until death parts us? And an estate car to ferry my little boy to football training in? I could go into the gorgeous little dance shop on Fairway Park with my daughter, to get her shoes for her very first ballet lesson, couldn't I? Just thinking about it was making me happier.

I'll take the test. Right now. I did my part, and looked at the little stick that would change my future forever.


	2. Pseudo Alcoholism & Moulin Rouge

_Sorry, forgot to post a disclaimer on the first chapter - also forgot to format - oops!  
I own nothing, JKR is a very clever lady who invented it all._

_I hope you enjoy, R&R!_

* * *

**September 19th – STILL My Birthday**

The little end of the stick turned blue. That meant... I quickly checked the box... I'm pregnant. Oh my God. I'm PREGNANT.

Part of me wanted to scream in delight, and the other part wanted me to scream in fear. I was going to have a baby. A BABY! And I found out on my birthday. What a wonderful and also rather shocking piece of information. I'd got a tiny person growing inside of at that very moment.

I knew that I had missed a couple of periods, but I thought, well, I'm not sure what I thought really. I guess it entered my mind that I could be pregnant, but with all that's been going on with work I never thought much about it.

That's a point, what would I do about work? My job required long hours, intense stamina and complete concentration – it took a lot of hard work, did Elf Rights Management. And I was only 22! What if there was a Hogwarts reunion in one years' time? All the girls would be glamorous and the boys, well men, would be slick, and gorgeous, and I would turn up with my hair undone with a pram and be the laughing stock of the party. Everyone would think I had turned into an airhead who didn't want a career and just wanted to be thrown up on and just cook baby food all day and read The Hungry Caterpillar to crying infants!

What about Carl? I knew we'd wanted a baby for a couple of months now, but we didn't actually think we'd have one for another couple of years! I mean, I've been seeing him for only 6 months! We weren't even living together yet! What if this meant we'd have to rush along too fast and he got scared off? I assumed I was about one or two months pregnant, as there was no showing, so that meant we had approximately 8 months maximum to move in together, get engaged, get married and go on a fabulous honeymoon.

I wasn't even sure MY standards or organisation could achieve that! Oh, look what pregnancy was doing to me already. It was making me doubt my own organisational skills! Not even a man could make me do that! No-one, not even a tiny baby can make me doubt my organisation capability. I would pull this off. Especially seeing as just today I got a new FiloFax. I'll have Carl bring his essentials over tomorrow morning, and tonight, after everyone's left, I'd flick through the Yellow Pages to find a (very) short notice removal man.

They're going to start wondering where I am in a minute. I'd better get back out there. But what to do with the test? God, what was I thinking? I closed the toilet seat lid, placed the test on to it, and pulled out my wand and zapped that and the box into nothingness. I'd keep the ribbon though. Nice addition to my collection – you'd never know when you might need a good ribbon. I stuffed it into my pocket, and while my wand was out evaporated any last tears from my eyes and sucked out all the red puffiness. I now looked good as new. In fact, I looked friggin' hot.

* * *

I opened the door and let myself back into the living room. I breezily sauntered in and sat down on one of the sofas next to Carl. He brought his arm around my shoulders, and left it draped over my back at which point I snuggled into his chest and he started fiddling with my hair. We'd better act like a proper couple now.

"Hey hon. Everyone's drinking some champagne, would you like some my darling?" He smiled, and began to move to pour a glass for me.

"We would have waited, but you spent so long in the bathroom, we thought 'to hell with the birthday girl!'" Ron laughed. I glared at him. I was still not happy about the whole incident back on Harry's birthday, and he was still trying to make it up to me. Fat chance.

"Now, would you like some or not Hermione?" Molly asked, with a stress on not, and a look in her eye that's suggesting she wants to know if I took the test or not, and how it went. I figured that a pregnant woman would not drink champagne, as it is alcohol, and alcohol is notoriously unhealthy for unborn children.

"No, I would not like any champagne, dear." I stressed the no, and a glance at Molly told me she had got the message. I leant over to Carl's face and I kissed him softly once on the lips.

"YES!" yelled Molly, nearly jumping out of her seat, and she pulled a tiny hankerchief out of her pocket.

"What's going on?" inquired Ginny, looking inquisitively between me and Molly. She had obviously seen the look. Molly attempted to cover up to no avail.

"I'm just, so, happy," she cried between wails, "that, Hermione, has, managed, to conquer, her problem!" I stared at her with a look of utter contempt. I could tell she was trying desperately to think of a problem suitable for this occasion. She continued, while everyone looked at her with eyebrows raised. "I'm so, proud of her! She only, confided, in me, but she's, she's, she's..."

"She's what?" Harry said as he tried to cut to the chase. I, obviously knew what she wanted to say.

"A recovering alcoholic!" Molly shrieked, and Ginny rushed over to her and hugged her tight. Molly, though, stopped crying, but continued digging herself (and me) a deeper hole. "She's gotten rid of those cravings! I took her away into the bathroom to tell her that we would be drinking tonight, and I left her there to compose herself. She just turned down alcohol! She's done it! She's broken the mould!"

At that point Carl looked at me in shock, and pushed me away a little.

"How could you not tell me about this?" he looked slightly hurt, as well as a little angry.

I decided the only way to go was the classic crocodile tears. Oh, and the useful story of my parents not knowing who I was – always a winner when it came to getting what I want. I began to sniffle.

"It's just, that, I needed to get through this alone! I didn't know if I was strong enough without you Carl, because without you I'm nothing, babe," I know. I sunk to flattery and petty sexual wiles. Pathetic, but necessary. I batted my lashes and let a few more tears fall from my eyes. "And, ever since my, parents, left, I have been somewhat a slave for the drink! I hate myself, I do, but I couldn't tell you. I didn't want to hurt you, because I love you so much." It felt odd that I felt like I was bordering on the verge of lies. I did love him, though.

"Now, enough of this. It's your birthday. And you're over this now, yeah?" Ron asked. I nodded. "So then, let's just watch a film, and enjoy the rest of our Saturday night. You don't mind if we drink do you?"

"No, not at all. I'm completely over it. The whole bathroom thing was just a precaution." I attempted to snuggle back into Carl's arms but he seemed strangely unwilling. I just sat there, hearing nothing but his ragged breath, wishing he would just hold me. Ron grabbed a DVD. Moulin Rouge. Oh my God, not this again. Every time he comes to my place. 'Let's watch Moulin Rouge!', 'I'll tell you what a good movie is – Moulin Rouge!', 'Say, you like Christina Aguilera, right? Let's watch Moulin Rouge – she has a song in there!'.

"Ron, must you? We've all seen this soppy film one thousand times. Pick something else." Ginny snapped.

"See, it's even too girly for Ginny! Just a shame your favourite movie isn't a little more masculine. It'll be you up there doing some raunchy burlesque in a moment! It'll be you snogging the face off of your darling Ewan McGregor. You've even got the red hair a la Nicole Kidman." Harry threw himself on top of Ginny and started snogging her in a very dramatic, sloppy and fake way. God, so immature. I can't believe Ginny plays along with these games. "Oh, Ms. Kidman, aren't you a little naughty thing!" Harry shrieked, as he wound Ron up by kissing Ginny.

"You. Get. Off. My. Sister." Ron growled.

"A little late now, isn't it Ron?" Harry gasped as him and Ginny sat up and ruffled their hair up in a suggestive way, while Ginny stuck out her hand and displayed the beautiful engagement ring Harry had given her only 6 months previously. They had no intention of getting married yet, but they liked to know they belonged to each other.

"Whatever." Ron slumped in an armchair and hit play.

We watched through the whole of the film in virtual silence, but all the time Ron kept looking back at Harry and Ginny who were occasionally kissing and generally looking like a happy couple, unlike me and Carl on the other sofa, looking a little less than wonderful. Every so often I would budge against him a little, just a small nudge, to initiate some action, but every time I got nothing, or he leant away a little. Not much, but enough to know my actions were not about to be reciprocated.

* * *

It was about 11.45pm when the film eventually finished. Harry and Ginny said their goodnights and took off back to their apartment, as did Ron. It was just Molly and Carl left with me in the darkened living room. I switched on a lamp.

"Would you like to stay tonight, Carl?" I asked sweetly, touching his hand, once again resorting to pathetic sexual advances.

"Err," he shifted away a little. "No thanks. I'll be quite alright to make my way home." He stood up and walked out of the door. I'd ruined it. I'd ruined everything. I could tell from the way he spoke. The way he didn't even say goodnight. The way he looked so blank. If this was how he reacted to pseudo-alcoholism, I don't know what he'd do if we were having a baby. But what could I do? I'd call him in the morning.

It was just me and Molly now. After we heard the front door slam, she bustled over and gave me a huge bear-hug.

"I'm so excited for you, Hermione! So, are you sure?" She said, anxiously.

"Of course I'm sure! I took the test, and it was positive, I've missed a couple of periods, and, I thought it was a bug but I've been feeling a little queasy for the last couple of weeks." I gasped, because hearing it out loud made it seem so much more real. Definitive.

"You wouldn't believe how sorry I am about the drinking problem incident. I just couldn't think of any other reason - apart from pregnancy of course – why you wouldn't be drinking alcohol." She mumbled, sounding awfully apologetic, and I felt sorry for her, but then a little bit incredulous.

"Why couldn't you have said something like detox!" I said whilst pulling away from her. "You could have been excited because you told me to try this detox thing, and I decided to do it!"

"An argument, I guess," she agreed, "but nonetheless a very weak one."

"And have you noticed something, about me and Carl?" I questioned, pointedly.

"Yes, dear, you're pregnant." She said slowly and carefully as though she were talking to a small child who had not yet understood the concept of the alphabet, or waiting until you were in the cubicle to pull down your trousers.

"Good God. He's not talking to me! He wouldn't snuggle with me! He wouldn't KISS me! What kind of a fool wouldn't see this," I pointed at myself and looked myself up and down, "and not take it when offered the chance! He's disturbed! And now I have to climb out of this hole you've oh-so-kindly dug for me because, hello, we are having a child together, and I do not want to raise it as a single mother, alone in the middle of London! I want this child to have a family!" I yelled, getting ever more hysterical, before running down the hall to my room, and slamming the door behind me.

I then had to walk back over into the living room.

"I forgot my FiloFax." I said feebly, before redoing my dramatic exit.

I don't know where Molly went tonight, whether she went home or not. In a way, I didn't care. I just needed to sort things out with Carl.

* * *

_So, what do you think? I hope you enjoyed, look out for Chapter 3 - coming soon!_

_Will she sort out things with Carl?  
Will her first doctors appointment go ok?  
Will Ron get over his obsession with Moulin Rouge?  
Where does the relationship counselling come into all of this?_

_All these questions and more will be (hopefully) answered in Chapter 3!_


	3. Frosted Flakes, Mayonnaise & St Mungo's

_I hope you liked the last chapter, here is the next one, I hope you enjoy (:  
Once again, I own nothing x R&R_

* * *

Sunday, September 20th – The Day After My Birthday

I woke up to a sickeningly bright, cold Autumn morning. I stretched and got up, and had nearly forgotten about all the events of the previous night when I felt incredibly woozy. God, I must have drunk more than I thought. I ran across, through the living room to the bathroom, and nearly didn't notice Molly curled up on one of the sofas, still fully dressed, with a Cosmopolitan magazine draped across her chest, open on the page 'Is It Time To Spice Up Your Love Life?'. The dirty woman.

It was only as I was upchucking into the toilet bowl that the events of the night before came flooding back to me. The pregnancy test that came out positive, the pseudo-alcoholism, the Moulin Rouge episode, the whole case of Carl leaving. I actually wanted to be sick some more, just to get all of that out of my system.

I looked down at my stomach, and still no show. I could only be one month pregnant. And being sick already? God, this was going to be hell. I finished up being sick and ignored Molly as I went to make some breakfast. I guess I was a little harsh. I suddenly had a craving for frosted flakes and mayonnaise. Together. Well, this pregnancy thing wasn't meant to be easy. I poured out my bowl and dolloped on big blobs of mayonnaise. It was surprisingly delicious. And I washed it down with a pumpkin juice. With a flick of my wand, I cleared up, and got dressed.

I left Molly asleep on the sofa as I apparated over to Carl's front door. I would normally apparate straight inside, but I felt now was not appropriate. I hitched up my skirt, fluffed my hair, pushed out my chest, pouted a little and put on my 'come hither' eyes. I was aiming for seductively sexy but not too forthcoming. I rang the doorbell and waited.

He opened the door looking ruffled and wild, but still charming with grey eyes. Carl had a habit of looking dashing. Tallish but muscular, with high cheekbones, and wavy, short brown hair. He saw me and looked slightly disgusted.

"What do you want, Little Miss Boozalot?" he sneered.

"I've come to explain. And I have some very important news that involves the both of us very much. Please let me inside. I know I seem like some lying idiot right now, but I need to talk to you." I pleaded, still batting my eyelashes, and twiddling with my hair. Difficult when you're trying to be serious.

"And what else is there to explain? Have you been sleeping around too? Is there anything else you'd like to confess? Because I'll gladly hear it before I slam the door in your deceitful face." He said, sarcastically, and I knew he would not take this well.

"Fine, I'll just have to tell you some of the most important news of your life, and mine, on your front doorstep in the middle of the street. And believe me, when I say it, the neighbours are going to have an awful lot of things to say." I knew him too well. I'd hit his weak spot. Personal reputation, keeping up appearances. Sometimes it was a little annoying, but today I could use it to my advantage. Crafty, Hermione Granger. I must congratulate myself later with a good glass of the vino milk with added nutrients.

"Fine. But you've only got a minute. I don't want to be wasting my time on you." He spat nastily.

"Look. Carl. You are blowing this way out of proportion." He opened his mouth as if to shoot back. "And don't interrupt me. You can say whatever it is you want to when I've finished. I doubt you'll need to though. You see, the whole alcoholism thing last night was a lie. A complete untruth. And I know it doesn't make me look good right now, but the truth is, Molly was covering up something for me on a rather more serious level. You see, when I turned down the glass of champagne, I had a reason, which I will get to in a moment. Molly was the only person who knew the truth, and on the pretence of keeping it a secret, she had to think of a reason why I would not be drinking. She came up with me being a recovering alcoholic. This was, of course, not what I intended to happen. I had no idea that Molly would need to think of a lie. It was all very dramatic and on the spot. I can assure you, honestly, from the bottom of my heart that I am not a recovering alcoholic. I have never been, or will be, an alcoholic. For the next part, I think we'd better sit down."

I led him into his own living room, and sat him down on his own sofa while I stood facing him. He still looked irritable, if a little embarrassed.

"The truth is, I'm pregnant. Molly did not take me into that bathroom to give me an alcohol presence warning. She gave me a pregnancy test, because she knew that we were trying. Well, not trying, but vaguely planning. And I took the test. It was positive. And I know this is far too soon, and we weren't actually thinking we would get pregnant for another few months at least. We were just being a little silly, I guess. Trying to get pregnant, but not actually ready for a baby. I mean, we're not living together, not engaged, and heaven forbid not married. We've got a long way to go before we're ready for this."

"If you want, you can take all that in, send me away and I'll never darken your doorstep ever again. Or you could accept my sincere apology, take me back, and we could start planning for the baby we are going to have. We could move in together, perhaps. We could start getting ready for the new member of a family we could have. You don't know how badly I want that, Carl. I love you. And I know you couldn't be more angry at me right now, and I'm still not entirely sure of the full reason why, but I know that at least a majority of it is me lying to you. But, underneath the anger, I can tell that you love me still. Don't you?"

I took a deep breath in. I stood still, perfectly still, in the silent and heavy atmosphere, not wanting to break it. It was so dense it was almost choking me, and I felt my throat burning up and my eyes well. Damn, this pregnancy was doing no good for my hormones!

"Hermione," Carl stood up, and walked over to me before taking each of my hands in his. "I know that this is a really scary time for you. And I know you're nowhere near ready for a baby. But everything's going to be ok. No matter what, I will be there for you every step of the way. Because this whole thing was a misunderstanding, and I hope you'll forgive me for that." He breathed, looking so deeply into my eyes I thought my legs might just turn to noodles and flop right onto the floor.

"Of course, only if you forgive me, though." I smiled.

"Naturally." He smiled back, then leant in to kiss me smoothly and tenderly on the lips. It was mediocre. There wasn't the same spark there used to be. And I really didn't know why. I wasn't faking it, by no means. I just wasn't feeling it (quote Randy Jackson – even though I have never, NEVER watched American reality TV...).

"So, are you going to go to the hospital to get this whole thing confirmed and such?" Carl inquired, hands wrapped around my waist.

"I hadn't really thought about it, but it would most probably be a good idea. I'm not doing anything today, and I've got work from tomorrow until Saturday, so, rather now than one whole weeks time." I rationalised. "Will you come with me?"

"I would love to," I sensed a 'but' coming. "but, I have to work today from home. I need to get the report on this financial year over to my boss tomorrow. I would have worked on it yesterday," he chuckled a little, "but I was having far too much fun with you and the gang."

"Well then, it looks like I'm going to have to make my way over to St. Mungo's myself." I gave him one last peck on the cheek and disapparated.

I appeared in a public toilet, which was, of course, my destination. I looked at myself in the mirror. I looked way too young to be pregnant. Oh my god. I was going to have a baby belly! And maternity clothes? Does anyone realise how hideous those things are? Losing focus, Hermione. I strode out of the shabby public toilet, and turned right into the street. I was in the middle of a downmarket London street. Lots of falling down pubs, old shops and teenagers smoking on street corners – but still hazardously busy.

I walked down a few metres until I came to the shop I was looking for. Purge and Dowse, Ltd. Not exactly every fashionista's favourite hangout, but it was most definitely the place for me. The big sign on the window read 'Closed For Refurbishment', and the only thing left in the shop window was an outdated mannequin, wearing a drab outfit circa 1991. I discretely shuffled over to the mannequin, and spoke to her through the glass – a sight that many Muggles find most hilarious.

"Hermione Granger, age 22, pregnant witch." I muttered.

"Please step through the glass while drawing as little attention to yourself as possible." The mannequin spoke shortly, in a cool voice that would have served well as a supermarket voiceover.

"Thank you." I stepped through the glass, an act that caused a mild but almost pleasurable tingling feeling. In front of me disappeared the garish yellow background for the display, and materialised a waiting room come emergency room. Hoards of people sat on rickety wooden chairs waiting to be seen, and many of them had a series of surprising ailments, such as the woman with a carrot growing quite nicely out of the top of her head.

I muscled my way through the crowds, and over to the reception area. Ah, the joys of meeting with the Welcome Witch. She was just finishing off with a little boy who's feet had grown quite enormous, and it was my turn.

"And what seems to be the problem?" She snapped, while looking me up and down with her nose in the air.

"Oh well, you see, it's not exactly a problem," I began, but didn't proceed to finish.

"The why are you here? Go home. We've got a queue." She looked back down at her papers. I continued, not about to give up.

"Look, I'm pregnant. I'd like to see someone who specialises in that area to check that my baby is healthy." I rushed, before she could stop me.

"You? Pregnant?" She laughed. "You know that wizarding babies grow at twice the speed of normal ones, don't you love? How could you possibly know you're pregnant and not be showing a lot at all?" What did she mean, not showing a lot? I looked down. Out had moved a tiny protrusion. The kind you get from eating a very large meal very fast. It was still noticeable under my tight top though. Surely that wasn't a baby? It wasn't showing this morning - but then again, the weirdest things happen in the wizarding world.

"Yes, I am. And it's half muggle, half wizarding. That could be an explaination." As soon as I finished speaking the whole waiting room stopped and gasped. Apparantly this was some sort of taboo.

"Well then. The new built maternity ward is on the fifth floor, where the tea rooms used to be. They shifted that up a floor, so if you have any cargo tell them they can go there – sixth floor tea rooms. I'm not having them crowding up my waiting room." She muttered irritably.

"No, it's, err, just me." I mumbled, feeling a little alone now.

"Oh dear, love. Abandoned unborn child? It happens to the best of us." She soothed quietly, before yelling, "NEXT!" right in my ear.

* * *

_Thanks for reading and sticking with it. I know it's a little slow moving right now, but in the fourth chapter the question is answered..._

_Is the baby Carl's or Rons's?  
What is Hermione going to do next?  
Will her life be changed forever?_

_Find out in Chapter 4!_


	4. Wonderment & Self Squeezing Fruit

_Hey guys! Sorry I've kept you waiting, but I sort of lost track a little, and was working on other (private) projects, and lost time to do this chapter. But, now it's finished. Sorry if the story is moving a bit slow, but in Chapter 5 everyone finds out the truth - and hilarity ensues!_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter (though I would be heck rich if I did!) and it belongs solely to JKR, the wonderful and intelligent lady who created it. Go JK!_

_Enjoy,_

_FrankCullen  
x_

* * *

Sunday, September 20th - The Day After My Birthday (still)

I made my way up to the maternity ward without too much trouble. I was greeted there by a lovely little lady, probably mid-50s, very short and plump. She was called Healer Jarman. She would be seeing to me over my pregnancy. She lead me into her little room, and I sat down on a cushion padded chair, looking at her over her desk.

"Now, Hermione Jean Granger? Is that correct?" She smiled. We then began a frantic array of back and forth questions that she wrote down quickly on a sheet of paper. "Has your diet been free of alcohol in the last 2 months?"

"No."

"How often do you drink?"

"One a week, aside from special occasions."

"Do you smoke any Muggle cigarettes?"

"Heck no."

"Who is your partner if you have one?"

"Carl Dawson."

"What is your relationship with him at the moment?"

"6 months relationship, very committed, living separately, not engaged, not married."

"And is he a wizard?"

"No."

"Have you slept with anyone apart from Carl in the last three months?"

"No." I shot. Then I remembered. "Oh my God. I have, so yes."

"And did you use any wizarding or Muggle form of birth control?"

"Oh my GOD. I don't know. I don't know. Dammit. Dammit. I don't know! Freaking Merlin, I was too drunk to remember!"

"Now dear, don't panic. The chances are, if you slept with him once, with or without birth control, you probably will not have gotten pregnant. But, if it makes you feel more secure, I can take a wizard scan of the baby with my wand, and I can gather enough information to determine the father. And it should be easier, seeing as one is a wizard and the other is a Muggle. I'll be able to easily see how strong the magic in the baby's blood is, and then we'll know the father. If it reads less than 30%, it is most likely this man Carl's baby, because you are Muggle born, I take it, and if it is more than 30%, it is most likely this other wizard's baby. You didn't mention his name?" she said kindly, and I breathed a sigh of relief knowing that in just a moment I would know the father of the baby.

But I was also worried, because there was a chance that it was Ron's. Talk about too much pressure for a pregnant lady.

"His name's Ron. Ron Weasley." I said, cringing at the memories of the morning after that night.

"Ok then, if you would just lie on the bed over here, and lift up your top to the bottom of your ribs, please."

I moved over to the plastic mattress-ed bed, and lied down. I lifted up my top and saw a faint movement in my tiny protrusion, and wondered if it would really keep growing at this speed until the end of the pregnancy. Because if it did that, I would give birth before the end of the month, tops! But, as if reading my mind, Healer Jarman answered my question.

"Oh, don't worry about that dear. The pregnancy development rates seem to fluctuate. You may grow a lot in a week, and then virtually nothing in another two. It's perfectly normal. So even if you haven't had any showing, or even just a little, it's fine. I'm going to do the scan now, and that should tell us most of what we need to know – including the magic levels in the baby's blood." She then started to move her wand across my stomach, while saying a quiet, musical spell under her breath.

It was an odd sensation – like having butterflies roaming about my stomach. It was about 2 minutes later when she finished. She then walked over to a monitor and placed her wand on a little metal table in front of it.

"It's like a scanner," she said, reading my blank expression. "It reads my wand for useful information and displays it on the screen."

"Oh, a bit like a USB or data stick when you plug it in to a computer. That makes sense." I replied. The nurse responded with a rather confused face. I figured she wouldn't know what a USB stick was. "It's a Muggle thing." I just said, and she nodded, looking at the screen.

And, slowly but surely, a lot of information faded onto the screen. Healer Jarman talked me all through it.

"Well, you are roughly 6 weeks pregnant, and a wizarding pregnancy is normally 18 weeks, so you are on the verge of starting the second wizarding trimester. For the next 6 weeks you may experience odd reactions to some foods, your powers may go slightly askew – so don't try any difficult or complex spells, as the risk of something going wrong up to 80% more likely than normal. Don't try anything that you cannot reverse, or better still, get someone else to perform these for you. I would also advise you take lots of rest when you can, and also talk to your boss about working from home a little more."

"Your sleeping patterns may become affected too. Some nights you might be bouncing around with only 4 hours sleep, but others you may take 16 and still feel sluggish. You also may feel a compulsion to sleep during the day, but no inclination to go to sleep at the time you normally would at night. This too, is perfectly normal in a wizarding pregnancy, as the baby saps up a lot of your energy in developing its magical powers, but does so in a heavily fluctuating way."

"Now, the baby is doing just fine. It is not that big at all at the moment, and there is not much blood or fluid to work with, but the reading here of the blood magic level says... hang on, it's changing a little. It keeps going from 25% to 35%. We'll have to see where it stops, but it's going to be very difficult to tell exactly who the father is from such a close reading. It could so easily go either way." She was being ever so kind, but even she looked a little worried.

I was praying for a 25% or similar. I so wanted me and Carl to have a normal family life, with a child that was equally ours. Another little witch or wizard. But, what if the levels of magic in his or her blood were too low to be accepted into Hogwarts? What if they never got the letter on the fateful day when they're eleven years old? What if they have to lead a normal life without magic and all the friendships and perks that come with it? What if I secretly, just a little, wanted it to be Ron's baby? Just so he or she could be a witch or wizard?

Oh God, Hermione. You want a family, and you want it to be Carl's baby. Carl is gorgeous – I'll bet the baby gets his looks. What does it matter if they're not a witch or wizard? They'll be a normal kid with nothing special about them. But I'd love them, right?

Interrupting all of my daydreaming, I saw the numbers on the screen slow down. Now it was in between 24% and 25%. I was safe! I was having Carl's baby! I was going to have a family! Now, a girl or a boy, names, names. What names? What godparents? Would we move house to be closer to Carl's parents?

Crashing back down to reality, I saw the numbers slip between each other ever so slowly, until it was almost at a stop. Healer Jarman readjusted her wand so it was closer to my belly, and the almost non-moving numbers suddenly skyrocketed, without any warning. The numbers were whizzing through so fast that I couldn't see them. I just saw the numbers 40, 50, 60 and 70 rush past my eyes. It stopped at 74. 74%. My babies blood was 74% saturated with magic. Pureblood, would be 100%. Halfblood, would be around 50%. It looked like I was a better witch than I had thought.

I lied there in a stunned silence. My baby was most definitely a wizard or witch. And it was almost definitely Ronald Weasley's. Crud. I was not having Carl's baby. I was having Ron's baby. Oh my God. Carl wasn't going to want to raise this child. I'd already been on the line, and now I think I am so far past the line I can no longer see the line if I look over my shoulder.

What the hell was I going to tell Carl. This was most definitely not me. The worst part is, he'd know that I'd slept with Ron recently. Basically, I'd cheated on him. This day was crumbling apart in my hands. I needed some very strong Centaur Spit. It was the strongest wizard affecting alcohol around. Vodka? No effect whatsoever on us. Shots did nothing. I lay there motionless, willing myself to wake up from this truly awful nightmare.

"Uh." I said, testing my voice, as it had run completely dry in my moments of panic. I coughed it out.

"Yes, dear?" Healer Jarman spoke kindly, as she leant over her desk, filling in some more ghastly forms and papers, finalising my fate. Abortion was in no way any option. I was not about to kill a little baby that had already started growing. I was going to love this baby with my heart. But did it need a father? What about adoption? I'm sure there was a couple out there somewhere that maybe could not conceive for some reason, and they would love this baby with everything that they had. Would I? I jerked myself suddenly out of my daydream to respond.

"Could I, um, have a very strong Centaur Spit with a pinch of salt, a few strawberry seeds, a dash of pumpkin juice, no ice, an umbrella and 2 bendy straws? In a glass? Or, alternatively, just the strongest stuff you are allowed to use by wizard law to knock me out. I need it. Please." I ended up pleading a little, but before I knew it, she smiled – even if a little begrudgingly – and whipped out her wand and gave it a short, sharp flick. In to the air popped a floating glass, strawberry, a pumpkin, a little umbrella, 2 bendy straws and, of course, a large, highly concentrated Centaur Spit, with a pleasing label of 'Super Concentration, Super Strong'.

All of the ingredients began to float around, assembling themselves into the beverage I asked for. The bottle poured a healthy measure of the Centaur Spit into the glass, and its electric blue colour just begged to be drunk. It started smoking a little, but this was all of the norm. The bottle popped again to vanish in a cloud of dense fluorescent blue, and the pumpkin then floated overhead of the glass. An invisible hand squeezed it until a little squirt entered the drink. Mmmm. The pumpkin popped and vanished in a wisp of orange smoke.

A salt shaker was the next item to float over the glass. It tipped up, and righted itself nearly instantly, so there was only a tiny amount in the beverage. It, too, disappeared with a pop of white dust. The strawberry plucked out its own seeds, and dropped them in. It exploded, and the tiny drops of sparkling reddish-pink juice and flesh fell into thin air. Finally, two straws, one green, one yellow, dropped into the glass, in which the liquid had now turned a shocking purple colour.

I chugged it down in one, in a rather unladylike fashion, but I needed it. I then felt calm and relaxed, if a little woozy. I realised that I had been sitting on the bed of Healer Jarman for about 10 minutes, and had not said anything. She was sitting patiently at her desk, waiting for me. I got up, and wobbled over to her desk.

I sat down, and she swam in front of my eyes. She then spoke, and it sounded slightly muffled in my drunk ears, but the words had the impact of a tonne of bricks.

"So, I know it's really none of my business, dear; but how were you planning on telling the father, and your partner?"

* * *

_Hope you enjoyed that, I enjoyed writing it! Sorry to leave on a cliffhanger, but I assure you the next chapter is a reader (I hope!). Keep checking back for Chapter 5... Thanks for sticking with it!_

_FrankCullen  
x_


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